Worse than Death
by AgathaBrine
Summary: Dipper makes a deal with Bill, entangling Dipper in a horrible and abusive relationship (of sorts) with the demon. Swearing. Rape/Non con. Graphic violence. Torture. Read with caution.
1. Chapter 1

"I'll be back soon, Bro-bro! Mabel chirped, throwing her arms around Dipper for a quick hug before grabbing her bag and the doorknob,

"Make sure you eat something," her faced turned serious for a moment, "There's left-overs from last night, so don't forget to eat like you always do."

Dipper forced a smile, hoping it looked sincere, "I'll eat as soon as you're out the door."

Truthfully, he wasn't hungry – he hadn't been for months. After graduation, both Mabel and Dipper found themselves in a relationship, only Mabel's turned out to be much more fulfilling that Dipper's. Mabel had been with Pacifica now for almost a year, while Dipper had been in a relationship with James – a boy from his math class in senior year – for almost four months. He was in hell. At first everything had been a dream come true – James would bring Dipper gifts, and every Tuesday they went to see a movie at the Gravity Falls Theater. And then Dipper got sick. He hadn't thought it would be a big deal. He called James to reschedule their movie date, but was met with fierce animosity. James refused to believe that Dipper had a fever. James had demanded to know who Dipper was ignoring him for. Without invitation, he showed up at the Mystery Shack, and let himself in. With Stan and Ford on their fishing trip and Mabel constantly out with Pacifica, Dipper was left home alone to sleep.

James had torn Dipper's room apart searching for any sign of infidelity, and even though there was nothing to find he refused to drop the accusations. When Dipper began to protest, James had forced him against the wall with his hands around Dipper's throat. He proceeded to scream himself hoarse, calling Dipper everything from a "disgusting leach" to a "manipulative cunt."

At some point, Dipper must have passed out. He couldn't remember what happened after being choked, and he had no memory of James leaving the Mystery Shack.

He didn't tell anyone, not even Mabel. She always knew when something was up anyway, but he didn't know what to tell her. He wore turtlenecks until the bruises healed, and decided to tell her after he had broken up with James himself. Knowing Mabel, she would try to be courageous, and he didn't want her getting hurt.

He was both afraid to answer, and to ignore James' calls. James grew continuously more possessive the longer Dipper waited, and simultaneously more unpredictable.

Mabel slipped out the door and into the limo that awaited her, while Dipper locked the door behind her and pulled out his phone. He had already missed three texts and a phone call from James. Now that Mabel was gone, he could end this. At earliest, she would be home tomorrow, and Grunkle Stan and Ford were still on their fishing trip. He had the house to himself now. He could invite James over, and break things off for good…

Dipper's mouth was dry.

 _What if he became violent again?_

He reconsidered. Maybe a phone call would be enough. His finger hovered over the 'call' button a moment as his hands began to tremble,

 _Maybe just a text is enough._

He breathed deeply and wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans:

 **I think we should bre** _ **-**_

No. That's no good. It leaves room for a discussion. It's not final enough. He erased the message and tried again:

 **This isn't working o-**

It wasn't an better. Dipper made a pained noise in his throat and erased the message once again.

He heard a soft knock at the door; did Mabel forget something?

He unlocked the deadbolt heard a voice on the other side of the door,

"Hey babe, it's me. Open up!"

He felt his heart sink into his stomach, and before he could form another thought he clicked the deadbolt back into place.

The doorknob rattled. James was trying to come in.

"Did you _lock me out_?" There was a moment of silence as Dipper backed away from the door; he wasn't ready to confront James yet. He was still trying to come up with the right words.

"I know you're in there." Another pause, "OPEN UP YOU LITTLE SLUT, WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?" The door began to rattle fiercely, "WHO ARE YOU WITH?" Dipper's breathing became shaky and he whispered to himself,

"I'm breaking up with you."

The rattling continued as Dipper tried again,

"I'm breaking up with you." He sounded firmer this time, but he wasn't sure if James had heard him or not.

"I'm breaking up with you, James." His voice cracked as he said it, but at least he said it.

"Dipper, babe, we can talk about this! Open the door." He sounded sincere, but Dipper wasn't fooled. This was the calm before the storm, "Dipper, I love you. Let's talk about this. You gotta believe me, you're the world to me! I'll die without you!"

The door rattled again briefly. Dipper took another deep breath and sank to the floor. Now he just had to wait this out. He did it. Simple, really.

The silence continued for longer than expected, and Dipper listened carefully for any sign that James was still around. Subconsciously, Dipper scratched a nail over a loose cuticle. The skin tore easily, and the pain jolted Dipper from his thoughts. A small drop of blood ran down his finger, and Dipper hurried to the bathroom for a baidaid. He clipped the hanging piece of flesh off with a pair of nail-clippers, but froze when he heard a _thump_ from the kitchen.

James had gotten inside the house.

He heard James move into the living room, and his mind raced. He could bolt himself in the bathroom, or he could run. If he can get out of the house before James notices him he might be able to get away, but if James sees him there's no way Dipper could outrun him. Dipper glanced up at the small window, barely large enough for him to fit through, but too high up for him to be able to pull himself through. There's no way he could get through it. He heard another sound from the bottom of the stairs and panic surged through him. If he closed the door, James would hear him, he would know where Dipper was. He squeezed the nail clippers in his hand until his knuckles turned white. He had to choose.

 _But what if the door isn't strong enough?_

He stared at the sink, frozen in fear. He had to decide, but his body wouldn't move on it's own.

"Dipper?"

Dipper jumped, clasping a hang over his mouth to suppress the gasp that escaped. James was still in the stairwell. He slammed the door shut and clicked the fragile lock into place.  
 _It won't hold._

His breathing sped up. He had made the wrong choice. He could hear himself starting to hyperventilate.

 _No. No. No. Not now. I can't break down right now._

He climbed onto the toilet and shoved the window open, dropping the nail clippers to the floor.

There was a soft knock at the door,

"Dipper? It's just me! Open the door, let's talk about this." For a second, Dipper really considered it. If he talked to him willingly now, maybe he won't be hurt so badly. But if he waits until James catches him…

Maybe he could de-escalate the situation.

Dipper trembled as he tried to form words, but nothing came out. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to regain his focus before he turned back to the window. Even standing on the toilet, the window was too high for him. He could reach it, sure, but he didn't have the strength to pull himself up to it.

James was trying the doorknob again, and he was saying something, but Dipper didn't hear what. The door was rattling again and something began to thud against the door with terrifying force. He had to move. Fast. He pushed the screen out from the window frame and grappled with the windowsill for something to hold onto. Stepping onto the toilet paper holder in the wall, Dipper pulled himself up so one of his arms could rest on the windowsill.

James was yelling again, and Dipper heard something clatter to the bathroom floor.

His blood ran cold and his stomach dropped, wondering what he just heard. He began to wonder what would have happened if he had chosen to run instead of hide in here. Beneath his weight the toilet paper holder snapped off of the wall and clattered to the floor. Dipper slipped, bare feet pushing against the smooth bathroom wall desperately for leverage. In a moment of panic-fuelled strength, he pulled himself back up to the windowsill so his elbows were on the windowsill. The door swung open behind him and Dipper felt large hands grabbing his legs. Fruitlessly, he clawed at the window, but James easily out powered him, pulling him to the floor. In a flurry of panic and limbs, Dipper fought for his life. James easily pinned him to the floor, pushing an arm over Dipper's throat to cut off his air supply.

"Who do you think you are?" James hissed, leaning in until his face was almost touching Dipper's.

His breath was hot and moist against Dipper's cheek, "You think that I don't know you've been sleeping around? Who is it? I'll break their fucking neck."

Dipper's breath caught in his throat as he choked out, "No one!"

"Don't lie to me you fucking whore," he pushed down on Dipper's neck, "Or I'll kill you, too."

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, trying to turn his head away. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be how it all ends.

"Well well well." That wasn't James' voice.

Dipper opened his eyes, unsurprised by the tear that rolled down his cheek. The world had turned monochrome and grey, and sitting on the edge of the bathtub was a familiar yellow triangle,

"Looks like I caught you at a bad time, Pine Tree."

Bill flicked his wrist effortlessly, and the weight on his throat was lifted. James had disappeared. Dipper choked at the sudden influx of air. He wanted to be grateful, but he knew Bill wasn't here just to help out.

"What are you doing here?" He was out of breath and rubbed his throat as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"What, no 'thank you'?" Bill laughed, "I could leave you as you were if you'd rather, but I bet your sister would miss you when you're gone!"

A vision of Mabel crying at Dipper's funeral flashed through his mind involuntarily.

"Wanna know how you're going to die?"

It was a rhetorical question; the vision of James was instantly invading his mind. The pressure returned to Dipper's throat and terror poured through his veins. He tried to claw at the weight on his neck, but there was nothing there to suffocate him.

Bill was laughing, watching as Dipper's face flushed red as he suffocated. He snapped his fingers, and Dipper was back in the Dreamscape. He collapsed, both hands wrapping around his throat as he coughed uncontrollably. But he was safe again. Kind of.

"I could take care of him you know." Bill's voice was right beside Dipper's ear, but Dipper could still see the triangle perched on the edge of the tub.

"What do-" he was interrupted by another coughing fit, "What do you want, Bill?"

"Nothing much," shrugging nonchalantly, "just a body to play with. I don't have one for when I enter your world you know."

Dipper considered his options, would that really be better than death? What would Bill do if he could use Dipper's body whenever he wanted?

"C'mon Pine Tree, your body for your life. I'll even let you stick around, rent free!"

The image of Mabel was forced into Dipper's mind again, only this time she was crying over his dead body on the bathroom floor.

"I would love to see Shooting Star find your body, wouldn't you? Ha! Oh right, you wouldn't be around to watch it."

Dipper blinked, Mabel was gone, and he was alone in the bathroom with Bill once more.

"Something like that would take years of therapy and pills to fix." Bill was taunting him, "Look kid, I don't have all day."

Bill extended a flaming hand, his eye burning blue, "Your body for your life. Thank about Shooting Star."

And Dipper was. He couldn't stop thinking about her. What would happen to her if she found him dead like this? He couldn't risk going back to reality without Bill's help. He was terrified. He knew James was going to kill him.

Trembling, he extended his hand and clasped Bill's. Briefly, the blue flame engulfed the two of them, and an instant later it was over. He was standing in the bathroom alone once more. The toilet paper holder was still on the floor, but James was gone. Dipper wrapped his arms around himself, turning towards the doorway. From the door all the way down the hallway was a bloody mess of limbs and clothing. James had been torn into pieces. Dipper couldn't look away. Body parts were strewn across the hall and blood dripped down the walls. Dipper felt the floor move beneath him, and he leaned to vomit into the sink beside him. His knees buckled beneath him and he dropped to the floor, hands clasped to his mouth in horror. His vision blurred, and right before he lost consciousness he heard a strange and unfamiliar scream escape from his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

When Dipper came to, he was already sitting at the kitchen table, fork in his hand, and food in his mouth. Mabel was laughing, hair pulled into a scrunchy and spatula in her hand – obviously cooking. It was like a hazy dream, and Dipper's body felt heavy, as if he was about to fall asleep once more. He was responding to Mabel's questions without effort, and with sudden jolt Dipper realized he wasn't in control of his actions. Memories of last night flooded over him, the chase, the struggle, and Bill. He was no longer in control of himself.

"…so if I spend more time with… F- er… Grunkle Ford, I think I'll be able to work out troubles." Bill was saying through a mouthful of pancakes.

Troubles with what?

 _Good morning Pine Tree, thought you'd never join us._

Dipper's heart leapt, and he tried to stifle his panic. On the outside, Bill was still chatting with Mabel, but on the inside he holding a completely different conversation with Dipper.

 _You can't hide anything from me, Sapling. I can feel everything you do; so go ahead, panic._

It was worded like a challenge. Of course Bill was enjoying this. Dipper vainly attempted to ground his thoughts and focus on Mable, but he couldn't stop thinking about Bill. It was all too real. He should have told Bill to go to hell. He should have faced James head on and tried to talk everything out. Even if James had beaten him within an inch of his life, it would have been better than this. But now Bill was in his head, in his body, and talking to his sister. What had he been doing while Dipper was unconscious? Could Bill take control over him every time he went to sleep?

 _Don't worry, we're friends! Remember last time I was in your body? This will be fun._

Bill rose from their seat at the table, his left knee buckled for a moment before Bill got his balance. He hadn't yet adapted to having a human body, but Mabel had been too busy to notice.

He dropped the dishes in the sink with a little too much force and turned to face Mabel again.

She was making a pancake shaped like Mickey Mouse, "So I really think she's going to buy me another pig to keep Waddles company for my birthday."

Bill looked around the kitchen, hardly listening. He had no interest in Mabel's story,

"When did you say ol' Fo-" he caught himself again, "Grunkle Stan and Ford would be back?"

"Just in a few days, why? You miss them already?" Mabel poked the spatula at him, a teasing smile on her lips.

Bill laughed, but it sounded awkward. It didn't sound like Dipper. Mabel's smile faltered, he eyes softening,

"You okay, bro-bro? I know things have been rough with James lately."

That's was an understatement.

Bill smiled warmly at her, "I don't think I'll be seeing him much anymore."

Mabel blinked and studied Dipper's expression – he was too calm, and he looked too happy. Bill must have realized this was an inappropriate time to smile and he relaxed the muscles in his face.

"Did you two break up? What happened?"

"We… uh…" Bill wasn't blinking, and he twirled his hand in the air as if he needed something to fidget with.

Had his conversation been this awkward while Dipper was asleep too? Dipper wasn't sure if he was glad that Bill was an unconvincing actor, or if he was scared of what he would do to Mabel if she found out what was going on. Would Bill hurt her?

 _I'd tear her open like Christmas present, Sapling. I think it's time to establish a few ground rules._

Dipper's heart sank. Then, without warning his body collapsed to the floor, folding forward as if made out of cloth,

 _Go ahead, kid, this is your debut. Tell her what happened with ol' Romeo there. But if you even so much as blink the wrong way I'll tear every nail off of her pretty little hands and cut out her tongue so she can't make the same mistake._

Dipper had his body back. He pulled himself into a sitting position, Mabel's hands were on his shoulders already and she was staring into his eye's intently,

"Dipper, can you hear me?"

He blinked and flexed his hands, feeling his body again as if he had been asleep for years.

"Mabel, I…"

"Should I call an ambulance? Do you need a doctor?"

She held him steady as he tried to stand up,

"I just got really dizzy there for a second." He lied, pulling himself to his feet, "James uh… left."

She stared at him, "He left you? What happened?"

She half-helped, half-forced Dipper into a kitchen chair again and pulled one closer for her to sit on.

His mind raced, he couldn't say the wrong thing, "Nothing! Nothing don't worry. We just split up."

Bill felt heavy in the back of his mind, oddly quiet, but too uncomfortable and oppressive to forget.

Mabel's face shifted in disbelief,

"Really? Oh my God Dipper, that's great!" She squealed and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing for just a moment before she paused, "I… uh… I mean." She laughed uncomfortably.

Dipper chuckled awkwardly, "He uh… I guess you really didn't like him."

She looked at her feet, hands still on his shoulders. Her eyes steeled and raised her head,

"I know how he treated you, Dipper."

Dipper froze. She had known all this time? He knew he shouldn't have been surprised – Mabel knew everything about him - but he had worked so hard to keep her out of his mess.

She didn't wait for a response, "He hurt you, didn't he?"

It was Dipper's turn to look at the floor, "Yeah."

He shouldn't feel ashamed, but he did. He hated that he had gotten himself into that mess. He felt responsible for every time he had been hurt. Responsible for every time he had made Mabel worry.

"I'm glad you're safe." She hugged him again, "and if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here, okay, bro-bro?"

He smiled weakly up at her, "Thanks Mabel."

Bill was getting bored, and Dipper felt his fingers twitch involuntarily.

"I'm gonna go nap." He quickly rose from the chair and moved towards the kitchen doorway.

They both glanced at the oven clock. It blinked "10:49AM" back at them.

"Already?" She stood too, and studied him again, "Alright. I'll be in the Mystery Shack, come get me if you need anything."

Instead of his bedroom, Dipper slipped into the bathroom, and as soon as the door clicked behind him his body began to move on its own again. The hallway had been spotless, as was the bathroom. Had Bill cleaned everything up while he was asleep? But now was his chance to sort things out. Figure out what Bill was really after.

"What do you want, Bill? What are you going to do with me?"

Bill laughed, the sound echoing through Dipper's mind deafeningly,

 _Oh, Pine Tree. What makes you think I want anything? I'm just enjoying spending time with my favourite flesh bag._

Dipper strained for control, but it was hopeless; he couldn't outpower Bill. Bill must have felt Dippers attempts as he chucked again, opening the medicine cabinet as if perusing a store,

 _We've got a lot of time to kill before ol' Fordsie and the fat one are back, huh? Wanna play a little game? I haven't forgotten how wonderful these bodies are, don't you remember our time together before, at the puppet show? Except this time you can join in on the fun._

"What did you say to Mabel while I was asleep?" Dipper didn't want to play Bill's games.

 _And you're sister's great! She's awful worried about you, Sapling. But those pancakes are to die for._

Dipper felt a pang in his chest – of course Mabel had been worried. He should have known better than to keep the abuse a secret, but even now he didn't know what to tell her.

Bill had closed the cabinet and stared into the mirror, pulling at the collar of Dipper's shirt to examine a bruise on his shoulder. He whistled, twisting his neck to get a better view,

 _You humans sure know how to make love, kid._

Dipper tried not to reply, but Bill heard his thoughts anyway: James had never loved Dipper.

Surprisingly, Bill didn't seem phased, perhaps because he bore little interest in Dipper's personal relationships, and perhaps because he lacked the empathy to appreciate the seriousness of Dipper's situation. Maybe both.

Bill pulled the shirt off in a swift movement and turned to admire Dipper's back where several smaller bruises were almost healed. He dropped the shirt thoughtlessly and spun to see Dipper's chest once more,

 _This is just beautiful. You're going to love being my play toy._

Dipper's heart dropped through his stomach, what did Bill mean by that? His heart was already picking up speed and his stomach turned.

Bill's eyes laughed back at Dipper through the mirror, maintaining eye contact as he trailed a finger over his chest and stopped at his belt buckle,

 _Let's get a few things straight: don't even try to tell anyone about our little arrangement here. I know everything that runs through your mind, and I own every inch of this sack of flesh. We have an agreement, Sapling, and there'll be consequences if you try to break the contract. You can't get away from me, so don't even bother trying._

There's no way this was permanent. Grunkle Ford would know what to do, Dipper just needed to talk to him.

But Bill knew as soon as the thought crossed Dipper's mind, and Dipper watched in the mirror as an eerie grin spread across his own face.

 _Don't test me, Pine Tree._

Bill's eyes wandered over the counter, pausing on Dipper's razor,

 _Wanna taste of what will happen to your family if you try anything?_

He picked it up and admired it thoughtfully; maybe he was just showcasing it to Dipper for dramatic effect. He pressed the button to drop the blade from the handle and watched the head clatter into the sink. Gently, he set the handle down perpendicular to the edge of the counter and reached to grab the blade.

 _Don't you remember? Pain in hilarious._

Dipper tried to hold his breath, tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't. Bill had him trapped. He no longer had any control over himself; no control over anything. His body was no longer his own, and he wasn't confident that it ever would be again. His head was pounding and stress was building like pressure in his skull.

Bill gently pressed the blade against his bare wrist, and slowly wiggled it until it bit into the skin just the slightest bit. A drop of blood beaded at the edge of one of the blades, and Dipper began to tell himself that this wouldn't be so bad. Sure, it would hurt, but Bill wouldn't kill him now. If he doesn't want anyone else to know what's going on then he'll be careful about the damage he inflicts… right?

His optimistic thoughts suddenly plummeted from his mind as Bill forcefully raked the razor downwards along his skin, as if attempting to shave the very skin off of his arm. The blade bounced unevenly as pieced of skin ripped from his arm. The only grace was that the skin began to stick to the blades of the razor, sparing patches along his arm as the blade reached his elbow. The pain was unbearable, and Dipper was screaming in his own mind. It was over as soon as it had started, but there was too much blood pouring from his skin for him to know how much damage had really been done. He fought for control, trying vainly to grab at his arm. He wanted to scream and cry, but the only noise that escaped his lips was an amused hiss as Bill admired his work. Inwardly, Dipper fought to grab a towel and put pressure over the would; to grab his arm; to drop the blade. Anything. But Bill didn't relent control. Instead he twisted the arm to admire the true extent of the damage. Blood splattered onto the counter and into the sink, already slowing the bleeding. The pain however, wasn't yet subsiding. Bill laughed inwardly, moving the arm over the sink to watch the blood dribble down the drain. Dipper felt like he couldn't breath. His mind spun as he tried to grapple with the pain. He needed something to try and ground himself.

Could he find six things that he could see? The sink, the blade, the…

His mind stuck on the blade. How much more was Bill going to hurt him? Dipper didn't know if he could handle much more. And how much blood had he lost? Would he need to go to the hospital?

 _Wow you humans really can't handle your pain!_

Just ignore him. Just breath.

 _Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's not even deep. What would you have done with that skin anyway?_

Bill's laughter grew in his mind, threatening to consume him. But the pain was fading. He would be alright.

 _You humans are fascinating creatures. Wanna try that again?_

He was baiting him. Dipper knew that Bill was just trying to scare him, to throw him back into a frantic state that couldn't think things through logically. He knew this, but that didn't stop Dipper's stomach from twisting and his breakfast from churning in his stomach – was Bill really going to do that again? Bill heaved into the sink, vomit mixing with the blood.

 _If I had known you'd be this much fun, I would have done this years ago!_

Bill wiped his face with the back of his hand before coughing up more vomit,

 _God, do that again!_

Fuck. How long were things going to be this way? Dipper knew he couldn't handle a lifetime full of this torment. He had to talk to Grunkle Ford.

 _Oh, Pine Tree. You'll learn soon. You're never going to escape this. I'm a part of you now. And every time you think about leaving me,_

he pressed the blade against the same bleeding skin,

 _I'll carve that thought right out of your mind._

Oh no no no no-

Bill dragged the blade along his arm again, ripping deeper into the skin and catching on the scarce pieces that remained from the first attempt. Dipper's arm was on fire.

Dropping the blade onto the counter, Bill let the tap run. The vomit and blood swirled down the drain until only the splatters around the edge of the sink remained, but his arm continued to bleed, dripping into the empty sink for what felt like an eternity. Bill ran a finger over the wound thoughtlessly, the contact causing another surge of erratic pain. An involuntary tremor ran through his body, shocking Bill for a moment.

 _That was ama-zing~ Was that you, Pine Tree?_

Dipper tried to tune him out, mentally listing the contents around the sink and where they had come from: Mabel's hair pin, a gift from Stan for their birthday. Hair brush, the convenience store down the street.

Bill sucked on the bloody finger, seemingly listening to Dipper run through his list.

 _You know, ol' Fordsie was never half as much fun as you are._

The toothbrush was from his parents place, probably from Walmart.

Bill looked back into the mirror, and Dipper stared himself in the eyes again once more. The same eerie smirk played on his lips that bared his teeth like a lunatic.

But the toothpaste was from Walmart, right? How many items was that? And-

His stomach lurched again, Bill lifting the blade to eye level,

 _How about this, where did you get this from?_

Bill doubled over the sink again, body shaking and his empty stomach trying to force out anything it may still have to offer. Bill laughed between pained coughs, but this time he laughed out loud. The noise was like nails on a chalk-board. It was so close to Dipper's own, and yet something about it seemed so different.

Dipper's head was light, and he wondered if Bill could feel it too, but Bill was preoccupied with wiping the counter down with a hand-towel and paid Dipper no mind. Everything felt heavy and as if any moment now they would collapse to the floor. How much blood had he really lost? Bill was wrapping the towel around their forearm, as he fell backwards against the wall behind. Slowly, he slid to the floor and leant his head back against the wall.

 _You humans and your obsession with blood._

Dipper couldn't tell if it was a joke or not, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Within minutes he had drifted to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Dipper had no concept of how long he sat there on the bathroom floor, drifting in and out of consciousness. Even in his dreams, Dipper couldn't escape Bill. Some dreams were the eerie greyscale of the mindscape, while others were overwhelmingly yellow, leaving Dipper to wonder which dreams were real, and which were simply nightmares. Bill would continuously whisper to Dipper, reminding him that he belonged to him, and he plagued each dream with thoughts of pain and torture.

When Dipper heard the first knock on the door, the sound drifted easily through his dreams without registering that it was real, but when he heard Mabel call for him, his eyes snapped open and he remembered where he was.

"Dipper, are you in there?"

Confused, Dipper felt the soft cushion of his sheets on his back and arms, and he realized he was laying in his bed. His room had books scattered across the floor, on his desk, and some even around him on his bed. Most lay open, as if carelessly tossed from the shelf, their pages bent at odd angles. There was no doubt in Dipper's mind that Bill was responsible.

Mabel knocked again,

"Dipper, are you asleep?"

He thought about staying quiet. Would Bill take control if he tried to talk with Mabel? Maybe it was for the best if he let her believe that he really was sleeping, but he missed her. He needed a hug now more than ever, and if he couldn't get one from Mabel, then where could he?

In his mind, he heard Bill chuckle unsettlingly,

 _Oh, Pine Tree. If you didn't want me talking to your twin out there, why didn't you just say so?_

Dipper couldn't tell if this was a part of some sick joke that Bill was playing on him, or if Bill really would let him talk to her, but when he tried to stand, his body moved as his own and responded as if it nothing had ever changed.

"Mabel!" he swayed on his feet uneasily, catching himself on his desk with a soft _thud_ , "Yeah, I'm in here."

"Are you alright?" She tried the door, but Bill must have locked it, "I was going to make dinner, are you hungry?"

"Uhh…" Dipper caught sight of himself in his mirror, and the gnash down his arm was covered in dried blood, "I could wait."

There was a pause on the other side of the door, "May I come in?"

Dipper hurriedly stumbled over to open his closet, searching for a long-sleeved shirt,

"Just a moment," he called back, pulling the first acceptable option he found over his head. It was a dull grey and blue shirt, worthy of little attention.

As he tugged the sleeve over his injured arm, the cotton caught on the dried blood and burned everywhere it touched. He hissed, trying to remain quiet.

"Should I come back?" Mabel called through the door.

God, she probably thought he was looking at porn or something.

"No no!" He steadied himself in the mirror, examining himself for tell-tale bruises or blood.

Inhaling, he finally opened the door, forcing an awkward smile,

"Wh- what's up, Mabes?"

She smiled back, an uncertain and thoughtful look in her eyes,

"May I come in?"

Dipper realized he was blocking his door in almost a defensive manner. He laughed nervously and stepped to the side,

"Right. Did you need something?" He rubbed the healthy side of his arm as Mabel entered.

"Well it's gotten pretty late, and I haven't really seen you all day." She glanced around his room, undoubtedly noting the mess of books everywhere, "I was just hoping we could talk more, you know… about you and James."

Dipper shifted his weight back and forth between his feet, he was exhausted, but he wanted to talk to her. No, he needed to. He needed a shoulder to lean on. He needed a friendly face to remind him that there was world beyond his own torment. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to just sit down with her and tell her everything. They had never kept secrets from each other, and Dipper betrayed that when he kept his abusive relationship a secret. And now he was betraying her again. Just the thought of telling her what he had been through made his chest tighten and his eyes burn. He needed her now more than ever. He needed her to get him out of this mess that he had gotten himself into, but he couldn't. He couldn't say a thing, not with Bill always present; always listening. Dipper didn't doubt for a minute that Bill would hurt him if he told Mabel what was going on, but he would hurt Mabel more. He swallowed, his throat dry,

"I…" his head bowed; he knew he was about to cry.

Mabel moved to sit at the foot of his bed, setting a book aside gently as if his room didn't look like he had torn his bookshelf apart in some crazed frenzy.

"He hurt me. A lot."

His eyes welled with tears, the exhaustion of the past two days weighing heavily in his mind. He couldn't face this alone. He didn't know if he could even survive one more day with Bill. Today he skinned his forearm, but what would he do tomorrow? His knees felt weak again, mind swimming just at the thought. His body began to tremble violently as the tears rolled uncontrollably down his cheeks. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and each sob shook his entire being. Mabel was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. With his head dipped towards the floor, he was the perfect height for her to cup his chin and rest her forehead against his.

"Sh… I'm here. You're okay now."

They stood like that for some time, neither of them moving. Mabel whispered reassuringly to him as he cried, ugly sobs choking out of him with each breath. It wasn't long until his head felt light and an incredible headache began to throb in his temples. Mabel stepped back, a reassuring hand on his shoulder,

"I'm just going to grab some tissue, okay?"

He didn't respond. His sobs had died down and his tears had slowed, but perhaps that was only because he was ready to pass back out. She was back in seconds, carrying a box of tissue. She set it on the bed and wiped his face gingerly with one, continuing to coo reassuringly. Dipper inhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing once more. He needed to sit down. He dropped himself onto his bed, reaching for more tissue. Mabel sat down beside him, and she leaned in to wrap her arms around him. Dipper hadn't even considered the consequences, and he yelped when her hand brushed against his sore wound.

Mabel jumped back, unsure of what had hurt him at first. Her eyes were wide with shock and she looked him over, searching for damage,

"Dipper, wha-" Her eyes froze on his arm, and Dipper slowly followed her gaze.

The seemingly delicate hug must have re-opened his wound, because a spot of blood had begun to form on his sleeve, spreading quickly. Dipper couldn't even think about this right now. He didn't want to think about anything, and he certainly didn't want to sit here and lie to Mabel in this state of mind. He wished he had gone back to sleep, or maybe asked Mabel to come back later. He could have taken Mabel up on her offer to prepare supper so that he would have had at least a few more minutes alone. He should have made up any excuse in the world to not let her into his room, but he didn't.

 _Oh, Pine Tree, don't blame yourself. All humans are weak willed like you. It's just your mind falling apart. This is perfectly natural._

"Oh God." He dropped his head into his hands, "Oh my God Mabel, I'm so sorry."

What was he supposed to tell her? Was he self-harming now? She had seen him this morning, she knew he hadn't left the house. What else could have caused such a cut?

"Wait here." And she bolted out of the room.

 _Way to go, Pine Tree. This was the best brother-sister talk I've seen in years! How long until they lock you away, do they still do that sort of thing?_

Dipper choked back another sob and wiped his face. He had to pull himself together. He could ignore Bill – he had to focus. What was he going to tell Mabel? Maybe she wouldn't see it. Maybe he could convince her it was just a small cut, that he was just experimenting. He'd never do it again...

But he knew he would. Bill would hurt him again eventually. No matter how carefully he played this game, he would slip up eventually. Bill would come up with any reason to hurt Dipper. He'd be hiding wounds for the rest of his life.

Mabel popped back into his room, first aid kid in her hand,

"Okay, let's see what we can do."

She was so put together. So rational and calm. Would that change if she seen him? What would she think of him? Dipper was sure she would cry. It would cause her nothing but pain.

"No." His puffy and uneasy eyes met hers as she stared back in astonishment.

"But Dipper, you need-"

"No Mabel. I mean… Give me the first aid kit. I can handle it, it's just a small cut."

She hesitated, not taking her eyes off him,

"Why…?"

She knew something was wrong. Of course she did. She knew Dipper didn't want her to see how bad it was. What other answer could there be?

Bill was silent, but Dipper knew he was enjoying the show. He was always happy to see Dipper struggle and to see Mabel hurting.

"Why won't you let me see your arm, Dipper?" Her tone was pleading, like he had betrayed her.

Maybe he had - this was another secret he was keeping from her. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Was he going to keep lying to her until he pushed her away for good?

He wrapped his fingers around his upper arm, away from the gnash, and he rested his damaged forearm in his lap.

"Mabel, I'm so sorry."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stood,

"I love you, bro-bro."

They didn't look at one another, Mabel now rubbing her eyes with her palms and Dipper too ashamed to watch. Slowly, she turned and left the room, closing his door behind her.

He sat on his bed in silence, tears once again streaming down his face. He didn't have it in himself to pull his sleeve up right now – he couldn't face that much pain. But he knew that if he left it alone something would happen - it would get infected, or it would try and heal with the fibers of his shirt still stuck in the blood. He dropped his head into his hands in defeat. Finally, after a long time of eerie silence from Bill, Dipper began to pull his sleeve up to gently apply some ointment and bandages. At least this way if he began to bleed again the bandage would catch the blood. He hissed, clenching his fist as if it would help the pain. He heard another knock, this time coming from the front door. His heart leapt in his chest and he paused to listen. The door opened, and heavy footsteps entered,

"Guess who's home early from fishing!"


	4. Chapter 4

The four sat awkwardly around the dinner table, Mabel politely inquiring about the trip while everyone pretended that her face wasn't puffy and red from crying. Dipper's mirrored hers, and it must have looked as if they had had a fight to the Stans. Stanley told the twins about the sour weather that forced them to return early, punctuating his story with tall tales about the huge fish he and Ford had caught and eaten; they had forgotten to take a picture of it. Ford didn't correct his story, but rolled his eyes, shooting worried glances between Dipper and Mabel as Stanley tried his best to fill the silence. A part of Dipper wanted to join the conversation; to make small talk with his family as if the biggest worry he had was an overly-possessive boyfriend again. He didn't miss James, but he missed the way he would hug him and comfort him after their fights. Bill didn't care about pretending, and he certainly wasn't going to hold Dipper while he cried.

Nobody bought Stanley's stories, but they all seemed to enjoy them regardless. Dipper forced a smile when he made eye contact with anyone, but the stress compounding on his shoulders prevented him from enjoying their company. He tried to tell himself that things could go back to normal, and that together, they would find a way to deal with Bill. He didn't believe himself. The ever-present weight in his mind told him not to get his hopes up, and Bill's laughter rattled around his brain so often that it had become a redundant noise he could barely even hear anymore.

Bill was too happy that Ford was home, and his childish fervour put Dipper off of his dinner.

 _You know kid, if you'd just relax a little you could be enjoying this as much as I am._

Dipper's fork slid unwittingly from his fingers as they twitched unnaturally, drawing the attention of his family. His forked clinked loudly onto his plate, and Dipper squeezed his eyes shut.

No-no-no. Not again. Not now.

Both Stanley and Ford turned to see what had happened, but Mabel chirped up before they could ask any questions,

"Do you know what Waddles did while you two were away?"

The earnestness of her voice pulled their attention away from Dipper as she dove into a light-hearted story about Waddles eating Stan's slippers. While Stan didn't look pleased, he was still distracted, and Dipper appreciated his sister's intervention - even if she didn't understand what she was up against.

His body felt as if it was being pulled slowly from his control, one muscle at a time. While Dipper fought back the dread that overwhelmed his mind, Bill was slipping comfortably into his limbs. In a trice, Dipper was helplessly watching his unwitting family listen to a story about a now-overgrown pig.

Mabel had barely finished her story when Bill lifted his head to join the conversation, almost talking over her,

"Grunkle Ford," his voice was soft and meek, almost pleading, "Do… do you think you have some time to talk after dinner?"

Bill dropped his eyes to his food and made a show of pushing a potato through his gravy; and everyone was eating it up. Mabel looked as if her heart was melting, her eyes filled with sympathy and worry. She was just as concerned about Ford's response as Bill was, lifting her eyes to his as if her life depended on his answer. Ford however, had been thrown completely off guard,

"Well… we just got home Dipper, and I'm pretty tired from today's drive."

Ford yelped in surprise when Mabel kicked him under the table, meeting his gaze with her most meaningful puppy-eyes. The table was silent as both Stan and Bill faked ignorance to the silent conversation, Stan sending a confused look around the table.

Bill set his fork on the table beside his nearly untouched dinner and stood, pushing his chair harshly against the wooden floor to get the most noise possible from the motion,

"It's alright. I understand." He grabbed his dishes, refusing to make eye contact.

Dipper wanted to die – he didn't know what Bill was up to, but his family had fallen for it with ease. He was pulling at their heart-strings as if playing a violin.

"Dipper wait." Ford stood too, his voice firm, "Of course I have time for you. Just give me a minute to clean up the dishes and I'll meet you in- "

Bill interjected, "in your lab?" Ford blinked, "sure, in my lab."

Bill nodded, trying to moderate his smirk into a meek smile, "Thanks, Grunkle Ford."

It looked as if Ford was going to say something more, but Bill had already turned towards the threshold, leaving no room for anyone to voice their concerns, setting his dishes on the counter. He headed towards the Mystery Shack, shooting Dipper a toothy grin in a large mirror as he strode past.

Whatever it was that he was planning, Grunkle Ford could handle it. He had beaten Bill before, he could do it again. Of course he could. Of course.

 _Can he though, Pine Tree? I have Fordsie wrapped around my little finger, and. So. Do. You._

He walked his fingers in time with his words along the front counter, punctuating 'you' by squishing a spider and twisting his finger to smear the small body across the wood.

 _With your body and my charm, he'll give me anything I ask for._ _ **Anything**_ _._

Footsteps could be heard just beyond the door to the house, and Dipper suspected Mabel had hurried Grunkle Ford out of the kitchen before he could help clean up the dishes like he had intended. Dipper wondered how much Mabel had said.

 _Here comes the fun part._

Everything was going to be fine. Between Grunkle Ford and Mabel, everything was going to be okay. They would have to realize sooner or later that he was behaving oddly. They were his family, and they knew Bill. They would handle everything.

"Dipper," Ford nodded in greeting as he began to punch the code into the vending machine, "I thought you'd be downstairs by now."

"Sorry, I just got a little distracted." Bill sucked what was left of the spider remains off of his finger while Ford entered the elevator, and quietly he sauntered in behind him.

"So, what was it that you wanted to speak with me about?"

Ford selected the floor deftly, and the doors slid closed. The walls began to whirr past, only a yellowed lightbulb to illuminate the cramped space between them.

"We haven't really done much studying together these past few years, have we?" Bill played with his bare toes, pushing them against the elevator floor as he lifted his heel; an attempt to convey childish bashfulness.

While Bill may have just been guessing at what their lives had been like over the past few years, Dipper suspected that he had been watching his family the entire time. Everything that Bill did was calculated, and this would be no different. His eyes remained trained on his toes, twisting his heel back and forth, harshly scratching the wood against the skin on his feet. Bill wasn't blinking as he watched – as if transfixed by the way the old wood would come apart and catch on his calluses. Ford wasn't paying enough attention to notice.

"No, I've been continuing some research, but we've both been much to busy to make the time to work together."

The elevator halted abruptly, bumping the two gently together like ping-pong balls as Bill steadied himself with Ford's arm. The doors began to slide open, and Ford shifted uncomfortably while he waited – Dipper hadn't held onto him like this for years. Once the door was fully opened, Ford slipped out quickly, and Bill let go of his arm to watch idly. He folded his hands behind his back absently as he followed Ford to his chair, eyes burning into the man's back.

"What's got you thinking about that all of the sudden, Dipper?" Ford pulled his chair from his messy desk and sat.

Around the lab, Dipper could see that nothing had really changed with time. The mess was as staggering as ever, and the portal had been completely dismantled, replaced years ago with boxes of papers and unused lab equipment. It was as if it had never been built.

"Well, you know. Things have been tough lately…" Bill trailed off, and Dipper wasn't sure if it was on purpose or not, Bill's gaze travelling around the lab slowly, only stopping once he had reached the limits of Dipper's neck, "and I just thought it would be nice to start working together again."

Ford swivelled his chair to properly face Dipper and he cleared his throat, "that does sound nice," he shifted uncomfortably before straightening up, "Dipper, Mabel told me about you and James. About your break up. You know, I do happen to know a thing or two about relationships myself,"

 _Does he ever!_

"So if you want to talk about it…"

"Yeah." Bill fidgeted with his fingers, pulling his arms to his sides as if he suddenly realized the unnatural appearance of his stance, "it was tough."

He didn't elaborate, and despite his playful jibe he seemed disgruntled with the change in topic,

"But I think if I had something to keep my mind off of it all, it would really help me." He forced a small and hopeful smile, raising his eyes to meet Ford's, "Do you still have those old journals around? You know, the ones from our first summer together?"

Ford hummed and twisted in his chair to leaf through a pile of old research journals on the side of his desk, "I'm certain that I didn't get rid of them, but I must have packed them away somewhere."

Bill's gaze drifted over to the boxes beyond the glass window, landing on one that Dipper suspected Bill knew held the journals. His gaze didn't waver when Ford spoke again.

"Seems like you just need a good ol' adventure to get you out of your slump."

Silence hung in the air for a moment, a small chuckle echoing through Dipper's mind, "I just miss how things used to be between us."

Bill was hardly being subtle, and Dipper wondered how much he didn't know about the two's previous relationship.

He continued, "It doesn't matter though, does it si-" he coughed, "Grunkle Ford. Because you know everything that was written in them anyway, don't you?" He watched Ford from the corner of his eyes, but his muscles were frozen in place.

Ford chuckled, opening one of his books briefly before setting it in another pile, "I'm sure I could remember most of it, but that was quite a long time ago."

Dipper's body seemed to suddenly come to life as Bill consciously relaxed his muscles, rolling his shoulders and folding his arms around himself, "I've always really admired you, Grunkle Ford. I'm sure you remember it all, you're the smartest person I know."

Ford's restlessness visibly dissipated at the compliment, the muscles across his back softening as he turned to address Dipper, "Well I don't know about that."

His softened eyes followed Bill's gaze, landing on the box. Something akin to realization flashed across his face, and his eyes widened slightly. He clenched his fists on his knees, all the work that Bill had done to bring his guard down falling apart as every visible muscle turned to stone in front of him. Ford sat for a second, his eyes steeling over, "Bill, get out of my nephew."

The man in front of him was no longer his loveable great uncle. Dipper had never so much hate in someone's eyes, and he had never imagined that he would be receiving that look from the man he most adored. Ford's cold eyes unsettled Dipper's stomach, and a chill ran down his back. The venom is his voice was tangible, and the fear that coursed through Dipper's veins was overwhelming. He was looking into the eyes of a killer.

It was too late for damage control, but that didn't stop Bill from trying.

"Wha- Grunkle Ford it's just-" he relaxed his shoulders and waved his arms defensively in front of him, "I'm Dipper! Look into my eyes, it's me!"

Ford rose from his chair, towering over Dipper, and reminding him of how big he truly was. Even after Dipper reached full height, Ford stood a full head taller than him.

Bill stepped back, widening his eyes to emulate Dipper's. Ford wasn't buying it – he was no longer looking at Dipper, but at the one demon he hated more than anything else in the entirety of the multiverse.

"Get the fuck out of him!" His voice bounced off the walls deafeningly, but he refused to give Bill a chance to defend himself.

He pushed passed Dipper's hands with ease, Bill grabbing at his wrists in a hopeless attempt at self defense. Two six-fingered hands wrapped around Dipper's throat, nails digging into the soft skin and thumbs pressing on his Adams apple.

While Dipper fought to control his terror, Bill was as calm ever. Ford lifted him from the ground, toes barely brushing against the floor.

 _Well fuck. You better deal with this one, kid._

The blood drained from his face as Dipper realized that he was back in control. He clawed desperately at the large hands around his throat and tried to choke out any noise that he could, but Ford wasn't letting go. Dipper opened his mouth, gaping like a fish in an attempt to breath, visions of James flashing through his mind. He had been here before. It was no longer his Grunkle Ford holding him, but the controlling man who had tried to kill him before. Spots littered his vision, and he felt his back hit a wall. He kicked weakly at Ford's legs, his body beginning to shake and his eyes burning with tears. He tried to focus on anything else, but his mind was going blank. He could no longer form a coherent thought, and any second now he was going to black out. No. He was going to die - by the hand of the man he most adored; the man he had trusted to save him.

Hot breath brushed his cheek, and he heard an odd noise that he wasn't certain was real. As the world swam and blackened, he felt his feet hit the floor, and his legs collapse beneath him. He choked on the sudden influx of air, his throat burning with each painful gasp.

"FORD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" It was Stanley.

Ford's yelling must have been loud enough to hear upstairs, and he heard Mabel beside him, calling his name,

"Dipper! Dipper are you okay? Talk to me." She sounded frantic, almost hysterical.

He urged his watery eyes open, focusing on Mabel to remind himself of where he was. He was home. He was here. He was… safe? Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he began to realize the full extend of Bill's damage. Ford would never trust him again now that he realized he was possessed. Every conversation they had would be guarded. He was losing his only hope of salvation, and with it he was losing his family. Tears streamed down his face and he choked back ugly sobs, gripping the front of Mabel's sweater so tightly he thought it would tear. His own family was going to kill him.

He could hear Ford and Stan yelling,

"LOOK AT HIM!" Stanley bellowed, "That's Dipper! Look at him, Stanford!"

Ford knelt beside Mabel, setting a hand on her shoulder, trying to move her away from the sobbing mess on the floor, but Dipper's grip was too strong. She wrapped her arms protectively around him, one hand gently cradling the back of his head, her thumb brushing through his hair. Dipper couldn't see the looks Ford and her exchanged, but he prayed to God that she would stay there, holding him, forever.

Ford cleared his throat, "Mabel, that isn't your brother anymore."

Dipper choked, blubbering out a muffled, "It's-" _hick_. "It's me! Grunkle Ford, it's me!" He buried his head as far into Mabel's shoulder as he could, comforting fingers combing through his soft curls.

"I believe him, Grunkle Ford." Mabel whispered firmly.

Ford was silent for another moment. He tried to start his sentence multiple times, but the words died on his tongue with every attempt. Finally, he wrapped his arms around both Mabel and Dipper, pressing his forehead against the side of Dipper's head,

"I'm sorry, Dipper."

Dipper couldn't tell if Ford believed him or not, and he was too afraid to ask. His sobs had barely calmed, and his breaths came in ragged and uneven gasps.

Ford didn't stay very long, and Dipper heard the elevator come to life once more. Stanley was speaking to Mabel softly,

"He needs to sleep. Let me take a look at him, Sweetie. Is he hurt?"

Mabel leaned away, gingerly wrapping her hands around his tightly clenched fists,

"Dipper, look at me." She whispered softly.

He slowly lifted his head, and meeting Mabel's eyes, he realized that she too, had been crying.

"You're safe. I'm here Dipper. You're safe now."

Stan ran a calloused hand carefully over the side of his neck, and he mumbled, "Jesus" under his breath,

"Dipper, can you speak? Say something to your sister."

"I love you, Mabel." He mumbled. His lips felt numb, and slowly, he loosened his grip on her sweater, "Help me."


	5. Chapter 5

"Help me."

The words had barely left Dipper's lips when he felt his body spasm into Bill's control,

 _WHAT DID I TELL YOU, PINE TREE?_

Dipper's muscles relaxed, barely maintaining his upright position as Bill turned his full attention inward. An indescribable rage was coursing through Dipper's veins, overwhelming every other thought and emotion that had previously existed. His terror at the outburst felt underwhelming in comparison to the insurmountable fury he was faced with. The presence in the back of his mind grew heavy and painful,

 _You think I won't tear you apart? I'll make an example out of your sister that you'll never forget – I'll tear every nail from her pretty little fingers and carve her intestines out of her stomach while you watch. And every second of every day I'll remind you of how you could have spared her the immeasurable torment she's going to endure because of your mistakes._

Images of Mabel's bloody remains flashed through Dipper's mind, churning his empty stomach.

Bill's eyes fluttered briefly as Bill tried to sit the body up – as if he had suddenly remembered that he had to behave normally. But the pure exhaustion from the fight weighed on Dipper's limbs, pulling him downwards.

"Let's get you to bed." Stanley's voice was close, and strong arms cradled him like a child.

Stanley struggled with Dipper's weight, carefully shifting him in his arms until he could stand. Time had not been kind to the man, and the only thing that maintained Stanley's strength was his stubborn bravado.

Bill let his head fall against Stan's chest, his efforts to control the body diminishing with each second. Dipper clung to the smell of his great uncle, trying to remember a time where he was safe and happy. But Bill was having none of it.

 _Go ahead and relax, kid. In a minute and fourteen seconds the two of us will be alone. Then the fun can begin all over again. You think Sixxer was frightening? He's nothing compared to what you have coming._

He needed to get away. He wanted to sink into the corners of his own mind and give in to Bill once and for all. Anything to avoid whatever it was the Bill had planned for him. He could hear the mechanical sounds of the elevator as he was carried out of the lab, his mind crashing as he fought to stay awake.

 _Don't you get it, Sapling? I'm a part of you now. You don't exist without me. You're nothing._

Dipper's head spun as he tried to force his possessed body to inhale. His breaths were shallow and infrequent, like Bill couldn't be bothered to regulate his breathing. Any second now he was going to pass out.

Dippers thoughts fell further and further from his control with each step his Grunkle took. Horrifying images began to crowd his mind but with each step towards his bedroom the line between reality and his dreams blurred more. He was completely unaware of the moment his entire world became nothing but gruesome dreams, and images of Mabel's body crowded his mind, shoving any remaining coherence from his cognition.

Mabel. Always Mabel.

Was this a warning?

His mind felt foggy, but responsive as he approached Mabel's corpse. There was dried blood on each of Mabel's fingertips, and just inches away lay a pile of her nails, still sparkling with the purple nail polish she had been wearing.

It was exactly as Bill had told him it was going to be.

Dipper choked back a distressed sob; had Bill gone ahead and killed her already? He dropped to his knees and pressed his head to her shoulder. A tear ran along his cheek until it dropped onto her t-shirt where it was quickly absorbed. He could still smell the shampoo from her hair.

He was sluggish as if drunk, but this was beyond any drinking he had done during college. The world swayed and tilted – as if he stood on top of a balancing board that moved smoothly, but unpredictably.

He wasn't sure if a minute had passed or several hours as he sat there, tears streaming onto his sister's body and his mind looping and distorting. He needed to think. He needed his mind back. He needed something to ground himself with. Fists clinging to Mabel's shirt, he slowly raised his head, his eyes sore and blurry from the tears. The world continued to spin, but Dipper couldn't help but think about Bill.

If Bill was going to kill Mabel, he would make it as painful as possible for Dipper. He wouldn't spare him any second of the awful torment. This had to be a ploy, but she felt so real.

He took a shaky breath and pulled away from Mabel, stumbling as he tried to get to his feet. The floor seemed to tilt to catch his fall, and he rolled to push himself back up.

 _Impressive, Sapling._

And suddenly the world was gone, and he stood back in his home. He wanted to be relieved, but it took him less than a second to recognize where he was – Mabel's room. She lay quietly on the bed, chest rising and falling with each breath she took. Her soft snores were the only sound throughout the room.

 _Are you ready for the real show now? Was it worth begging for help, Pine Tree? You have no idea what I'm capable of._

Dipper fought for control hopelessly, his eyes stinging and dry as if Bill had been forgetting to blink and his legs stiff. He wondered how long they had been there for, but he wasn't given long to dwell on it,

 _Well what else did you expect me to do while you were away? Your sister's a beautiful sleeper you know. If you watch her for long enough, you can even guess what she's dreaming about! I'm thinking she's having nightmares about her adorable twin brother… Oh but what do you think he's doing?_

Dipper didn't need to be told, but Bill continued anyway.

 _He's tearing her fucking finger nails out._

Mabel whimpered in her sleep, rolling her head to the side before stilling once more.

Bill lifted a stiff arm, his shoulder popping uncomfortably as he did,

 _You know, you really fucked up earlier kid. You knew better than to ask for help. You've put me in a real tough situation. I've had a lot of time to think about how to broach this problem of yours._

 _I love Shooting Star as much as you do…_

Bill's cackle bounced through Dipper's thoughts, as if he could no longer keep a straight face,

 _And you're gonna love tearing her apart just as much as_ _ **I**_ _do._

Dipper's heart shattered, desperation taking over as fought hysterically for control. Bill paid him no mind, and his body jerked as it re-animated, moving slowly from the foot of the bed to beside Mabel's pillow. Dipper screamed internally, knowing full well that she wouldn't hear him.

What was Bill going to do to her? Dipper's mind raced through the last through days, remembering each threat and each moment of torture. He couldn't let him hurt Mabel like he had been hurt. She didn't deserve this. She had a future – a happy one with Pacifica and maybe some children.

Bill reached into the pocket of Dipper's pants, pulling out a pair of pliers that he undoubtedly took from Stan's toolbox.

Dipper wished he could die – wished he _had_ died. He never should have made this deal. He couldn't live with himself for putting Mabel at risk like this, and he didn't want to think about what she was about to endure because of him. As if everything that she had already been through because of him wasn't enough.

Maybe he really had only wanted to look out for himself. He had been exhausted, and scared. Maybe on some subconscious level he had just wanted this all to end, regardless of the cost.

 _Oh Sapling, it wasn't_ _ **subconscious**_ _. You knew damn well what you were doing when you did it. I know everything that goes through your mind, trust me. Haven't I ever told you how brave, and adventurous you are? How your blatant disregard for your family turns me on?_

Bill straightened up, gently setting a hand on Mabel's shoulder and running it down her arm to push the bedsheet to her waist. She sighed in her sleep, but didn't stir.

 _But don't worry, it wasn't your fault, was it? I know. I know you just needed a break, right? You're not a bad kid, Pine Tree. You deserve a break. So relax, take a breath. Sit back and enjoy the show._

Dipper's mind felt as thought it was coming apart at the seams. He screamed until he should have been hoarse, and then he screamed more.

Bill laughed,

 _You seem tense, kid. Need a demonstration before we begin?_

He aligned the pliers with Dipper's small finger and squeezed until the nail flattened painfully, the unnatural position straining the skin. But he didn't pull.

Dipper felt frozen in place. This was better, right? Better than him hurting Mabel, right? He could take this. He could take as much pain as Bill could dish out, just as long as he didn't touch Mabel.

And Bill pulled.

The nail came off in one swift movement, his eyes still not blinking despite how badly Dipper willed them to look away. The end of the nail was further beyond the cuticle than he had imagined, and the raw, bloody flesh made him inwardly gag.

There was a quiet _tak_ as his nail hit the floor.

His body began to shake despite Bill's calm disposition, but despite the pain, Dipper knew he could take it. Bill could rip every nail off if he really wanted to.

 **Just don't hurt Mabel.**

And Bill chuckled darkly,

 _You'll really do anything, Sapling? Because this is your last chance. You're going to bring me those journals. Tonight. I don't care if you have to fuck that old man to get them. You go down there and put on your most convincing show, and I'll spare your sister, but if you so much as breath the wrong way, I'll gut your sister like a pig._

Bill squatted beside Mabel's bed, leveling his eyes with hers. She didn't so much as stir, but Dipper felt like his heart was in his throat.

 _She'll be even more beautiful when I'm done with her, Pine Tree._

And with that he sprung to full height and twirled to face the door, slipping quietly out of Mabel's room and clicking the door shut behind him.

The trip to Ford's lab felt even shorter than usual, and Dipper spent the entire trip trying to plan out what to say. Ford was already on guard, what could he possible do now?

But he had to figure it out. He had to come up with something. He'd get those journals, and he'd worry about Bill later. For now, he just had to help Mabel.

Bill's laugh drifted uncomfortably through his mind, but thankfully he spared Dipper his commentary on the subject. Dipper's back hit the wall of the elevator as Bill slipped from control. He wasn't ready yet. He didn't know what to say.

His throat felt dry and Dipper coughed awkwardly as the elevator slowed to a stop,

 _It's show time._

The doors slid open, revealing the dimly lit room from before. A few things looked as if they had been knocked astray, and Dipper suspected Ford hadn't cleaned up after their struggle. Ford sat at his desk, a cup of coffee in his hand that he peered into intently. He looked as tense as Dipper felt.

Dipper tried to speak, but nothing came out, instead he inched from the elevator towards his great uncle and squeezed his eyes shut. He just had to say 'hello'.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes once again, only to find Ford staring at him already, his expression unreadable.

"G-" Dipper fought the rising panic in his throat; what exactly did that look mean?

He coughed uneasily and tried again, "Grunkle Ford."

His voice sounded hoarse and unfamiliar, and was apparent that Bill hadn't drank anything while Dipper was asleep.

"Dipper." The stoic greeting seemed to make them both uncomfortable, "I thought you would be in bed."

The way Ford forced out the sentence made it obvious that he was trying to prevent an awkward silence from forming.

"Yeah… I was." Dipper rubbed his palm along his healthy arm, trying to pull his eyes from the floor, "I just thought… you know…"

 _Geeze kid, just spit it out already! He can't read minds like I can._

"I understand, Dipper. We should talk."

They two stood in silence for a minute before Ford sighed heavily and stood to grab an old chair for Dipper to sit on, "Have a seat. I'm sorry about earlier," he must have read the anxiety emanating from his grand nephew as he continued, "I won't hurt you this time. I promise. I only want to help."

Dipper caught sight of his reflection in the glass between him and the old portal room as he moved to sit, and he could see the dark purple outline of where Ford's fingers had fit so easily around his throat. There was no denying that he would have died if Grunkle Stan hadn't stepped in. He forced himself to sit down in the chair, his fingers stiffly gripping his shirt and his eyes still on his reflection. Ford followed his eyes, and his expression faltered when he seen the reflection of Dipper's bruise. Something akin to remorse softened his expression,

"I really am sorry, Dipper. I made a mistake. My time with Bill was… well it doesn't matter. It was complicated, and it left me with some issues that I guess I never properly dealt with. I was acting paranoid when I seen Bill in you." He paused, seemingly waiting for a response from Dipper, but when there was none he continued, "I'm not trying to make excuses. There's no acceptable reason for how I treated you earlier. I never should have hurt you like that."

 _Oh for the love of all that is geometrical, how long are you going to sit here and whisper sweet nothings? You're boring me, Pine Tree. Get to the good part._

Dipper winced unintentionally, and his eyes met Ford's confused ones,

"Is there…" what was he even trying to say? "Do you think things will ever go back to normal, Grunkle Ford?"

He knew they couldn't. Not now. He would never be able to forget the unaltered hatred in Ford's eyes when he had his hands wrapped around his throat.

"Of course." Ford reached his hand towards Dipper's shoulder, but stopped when Dipper flinched once more, "I- Of course they will, Dipper. We can start right now. I'll make it up to you."

A wave of guilt passed through him as he seen the pained look Ford gave him, and another moment of silence passed as they both seemed to search for words,

"We could do some more research." Dipper suggested hopefully.

"Yes. Yes very good." Ford spun in his chair to sift through some books, "What were you learning about when you were in college there? Maybe you can help me with my fungus project." He pulled an old notebook from the stack and stood, "Follow me, Dipper, I think I packed away my equipment last year when the drought had seriously hindered any progress."

 _Oh joy. Fungus. Christ, what does old age_ _ **do**_ _to you humans?_

Dipper watched Ford walk through the door to the portal room, his heart in his throat. He stood and followed quietly, maybe this would be his chance. He just needed into that box near the end, the one Bill had been watching so intently before. That must be the one with the journals.

As he stepped through the door he could see the box in question.

"Don't be shy, c'mon on in." Ford called absently, not looking up from the book as he flipped through the pages.

As Dipper followed Ford, he glanced around the room, noting a few things out of place from where they had been a few hours ago. An odd bowl-shaped metal slab was perched on top of a stack of boxes, and he heard the quiet crack beneath his feet of something crumbling. He glanced down, lifting his foot to inspect the damage. A small pile of dust sat on the floor and some clung to the bottom of his shoe - remnants of a piece of chalk. Before he realized what was going on, Bill was back in control, his body spinning to survey the room,

They were standing in a large triangular-shaped chalk design on the floor – a binding sigil of sorts.

"I'm sorry Dipper," Ford stood on the edge of the chalk outline, a serious demeanour that Dipper recognized all too well, "this isn't going to be very pleasant for you."


	6. Chapter 6

Ford flipped through the book in his hands until he seemed to find what he was looking for.

"Grunkle Ford, what are you doing?" Bill tried to sound scared and earnest, but it came out sounding frantic and unnatural, "Are you trying to kill me?" His voice rose in a panic, "You gotta trust me Grunkle Ford! It's me, your great nephew!"

Ford had a look in his eyes that Dipper had never seen before, but Bill seemed to recognize it immediately,

"Grunkle Ford, whatever it is you want, just tell me and I'll do it! Why do you keep hurting me?"

His feet were concrete in the middle of the triangular sigil, but his hands moved freely as he spoke,

"Don't do this! I trusted you! I looked up to you! What can I do to make you believe me?" his voice cracked.

Dipper could feel his blood pumping in his ears, and as Bill began to speak more quickly, he began to inhale less.

Ford watched with a distant expression, his eyes steady and jaw set tightly, "I'm sorry Dipper."

Dipper hadn't known before now that Bill was capable of fear, but the emotion that engulfed him was unmistakable. Tears welled in his eyes, and Dipper wasn't sure how much of it was Bill's act compared to his own emotions,

"Please! Please you have to believe me!" he wrapped his fingers tightly into his brown curls, "GRUNKLE FORD DON'T HURT ME!"

Dipper would be lying if he said that he wasn't just as afraid as Bill was. If something was bad enough to scare a demon of Bill's capacity, then Dipper was certain it would be more than he himself could handle. Ford had already tried to kill him, but what was he going to do now? Everyone was asleep. There was no one to save him this time.

Bill continued to scream and beg, his voice starting to die from the strain on his throat, but Ford wasn't paying attention anymore. He began reciting something from the book he held - something that sounded like Latin, but Dipper was unable to decipher the meaning. An intense pain shot through his head, so staggering that even Bill screamed out in pain. His limbs twitched as if electricity coursed through him, and his palms pressed to his temples forcefully.

As Ford read on, the pain increased. His body began to spasm and his muscles twitched erratically. His limbs were forced in unnatural directions, the ligaments stretching and making unnerving noises with each movement. The pain welled in his head as if something was swelling inside him, the pressure building and threatening to crack through his skull at any moment.

Bill's screaming was no longer in English, it was now something so alien that it could only be a foreign language in reverse. His speech rapidly sped up, as if Bill needed to complete an incantation before Ford completed his. Dipper didn't have time to dwell on it as his vision pulsed red, and he felt his body giving out beneath him. He hit the floor like a bag of bricks, and a disturbing crack echoed through the room as his head bounced off of the floorboards.

Neither Bill nor Ford paused as Dipper's body crumpled over, the sound of their voices turning to babbling as his brain short-circuited from the pain. As he twitched on the floor, his mouth grew damp and Dipper felt foam drip from his lips to roll down the side of his cheek. The bubbles and spit muffled Bill's bizarre words, but it was impossible to make them less coherent.

A pain shot through his torso, building with each convulsion of his body. He felt as though someone was trying to pull his organs out through his mouth, and he wondered if he would throw up. He wanted to clench his eyes shut, but his body was beyond his control – and seemingly, beyond Bill's as well. He shook violently for another moment before falling still. Bill continued to mumble his incantation, but his voice had gone quiet and soft, as if he were tired and out of breath.

The pain pulsed through his head with each word Ford spoke. And an eternity had passed before Ford finally fell silent, leaving only Bill's voice to echo through the room. Bill mumbled for another moment, his lips moving numbly through the foam. After another moment, he fell silent, his chest rising and falling with each deep and painful breath. Ford began to address Bill, but Dipper was only coherent enough to make out the demon's name.

His chest heaved deeply with the strain of his muscles as Bill pulled himself into a sitting position with his hands still laying limply at his sides. He faced Ford head on, grin spread across his face and eyes bloodshot. Bill didn't speak, and didn't blink. His head only fell to the side as if the exhaustion on the body was too much to support it. There was a long moment while Ford and him watched one another in silence.

Bill was the first to break the silence, "Nice to see you again, Sixxer. You learned a few new tricks while I was away."

Ford didn't respond, reaching into one of the boxes to retrieve a bottle of water.

"Oh, give me a break, Fordsie. Holy water? Just what kind of demon do you think I am?"

When the water was thrown towards him, Dipper's skin began to burn and sizzle, but Bill didn't react.

"Get out of my grand nephew, Bill." Ford's voice sounded like it had when he had been choking Dipper, and it sent shivers down his spine. He was out to kill again.

"Oh, c'mon IQ. I'm not hurting him by just existing. Things could be just like old times again. Finish the portal, and I'll leave him alone. What do you say?"

Ford's expression wavered, examining Bill carefully, "I won't fall for your tricks, Bill." He cleared his throat, "This might take some time Dipper, I'm sorry."

And once again he began reciting from his book. Instantly Dipper's body began convulsing, except this time when the foam poured from his mouth, it was stained pink with blood.

It felt as if a razor had been dragged from his stomach to his mouth. His stomach twitched painfully and each convulsion grew more violent. His head smashed against the floor again and again, and Dipper wondered when Bill had stopped chanting.

Realizing that he was back in control, he tried to relax the muscles throughout his body, but to no avail.

"G-Grunk-" he couldn't finish his words, his tongue felt swollen and numb in his mouth.

And that's when he felt the exorcism really begin. Every muscle in his body tensed, and a fierce pain flowed from his toes, slowly creeping through each nerve up into his legs, then to his stomach, through each atom of his torso, into each arm and every finger, and finally into his throat. It stayed there as if the pain had physically manifested to block the passage of air. Dipper struggled where he lay, choking hoarsely, as his shoulders continued to spasm with each forceful cough. Ford's voice grew steadily louder, and after what felt like an eternity, the pain poured from his throat into his mouth. His very teeth felt like they were bleeding, and warm blood poured from his gaping mouth like a fountain. After a nauseating moment of choking the liquid from his throat, his body finally relaxed.

He lay there in silence, eyes closed in exhaustion. The spasms slowed until only his fingers twitched uncomfortably. The blood coated his mouth leaving a metallic taste that he dwelled on absently as he tried to pull his mind back together. What had just happened?

He felt two warm fingers press to the side of the throat,

"I'm sorry Dipper. I'm so sorry. It's okay now." He was lifted from the floor and carried to Ford's desk where he was set as if on a bed, but the hard wood beneath him wasn't soothing.

Regardless, Dipper tried to relax. Things could only get better now. It was finally over. Bill was gone.

Ford was cooing in his ear, "Just one last step, and you'll be free forever."

All the relief Dipper had summoned drained from his mind. One last step? What was he going to endure now? What more could there possibly be to do?

He felt a pinch in his arm, and he rolled his head to the side to see an IV drip beside him. Ford pushed a second needle into the back of his hand, carefully avoiding the nailless finger.

"It's just light painkillers and something to keep you hydrated. And this one," he added as he turned to pull a bag from his desk drawer, "is just to replace the blood you're going to lose. I'm sorry Dipper, I won't be able to put you under. I need you awake for this. I need to make sure that it's still you. Can you speak?"

He wasn't sure that he could. His throat felt raw and his tongue was still numb, but he tried anyway,

"Wh…" He swallowed, "What are you…"

Ford ran a hand through Dipper's sweat-drenched locks, "That's good. Save your strength. I'm going to need you to talk to me periodically, so don't use all of your strength up yet."

Something in the back of Dipper's mind told him that the worst was yet to come, and tears welled in his dry eyes as they met Ford's,

"What are you-" he coughed, "going to do to me?"

Ford's eyes softened apologetically, "We need to keep Bill out of your head, Dipper."

And he knocked on his own head, "don't worry, it'll be over before you know it."

Dipper didn't have time to consciously think about what he was doing, but he sprung up into a sitting position and had one foot almost on the floor before Ford grabbed him to push him back down.

"Dipper I need you to do this for me!" His voice was authoritative and impenitent suddenly, and Dipper knew he had lost this battle before it had even begun.

"NO! NO DON'T TOUCH ME!" He fought wildly to push past the man, but he was easily overpowered and pushed down against the top of the desk again.

"DIPPER LISTEN TO ME." They struggled for a moment before Dipper finally resigned, falling heavily back onto the desk as he tried to catch his breath.

Ford stroked his arm affectionately, "If we don't insert the plate into your head, Bill will only come back."

Tears poured down Dipper's cheeks as he stared up in disbelief. This was worse than death itself.

But he stayed still as Ford turned to grab straps to tie him to the table,

"You're going to want to struggle, and that's okay. I understand. But do your best to stay still for me. I'll make this quick." Ford ran a hand through Dipper's hair one more time, "But first, I need to shave your head."

He wrapped the straps around his wrists, ankles, shoulders, and waist, and pulled them tight enough to the desk that Dipper could only turn his head.

The sound of the razor burned Dipper's ears as he imagined what kind of machine Ford would require to cut through his skull, and his tears didn't let up. He hiccupped once or twice, earning a concerned look from Ford. He mumbled another apology as he avoided Dipper's betrayed gaze, and instead turned to grabbed one last strap. He wrapped across Dipper's ears and tightened it around the table as well, securing his head in place. Dipper's breathing grew erratic, but Ford seemed not to notice.

Dipper was silent as Ford ran the razor over his head, wishing in part that it would never end, so he would never have to deal with what was to come next. As the buzzing ceased, Dipper's heart sped up.

Finally, Ford turned on what could only be a saw and Dipper's breath caught in his throat. Ford was careful not to give Dipper time to dwell on his fear as he pushed the blade against the bare forehead in front of him.

His scream was loud enough to wake everyone in Gravity Falls, and Ford winced, his hands halting for only a split second before he pushed on. An awful scratching noise echoed through Dipper's body as the blade reached the bone, but Ford didn't seem deterred. He wished with each continuing second that he would die. Nothing Bill had done to him could compare to this. He sobbed, tears pooling on the table beneath him with the blood that ran down his face and splattered onto his nose. Most likely, blood pooled from the back of his head as well, but Dipper couldn't bring himself to even consider the length of the cut. As the blade was turned off, Dipper bit into his lip to try and get a hold of himself once more, but nothing could stop the sobs from escaping his lips. The pain diminished, but what was left was still powerful and disorienting.

Ford set the saw down somewhere out of sight, "Dipper talk to me."

But he couldn't bring himself to form words. He lacked the strength to even call out for help anymore. Instead, he continued to sob, terror and pain engulfing everything he had ever known.

Ford ran a thumb over Dipper's bloody cheek, "Dipper please. I need you to say something. Tell me about your sister. Tell me about Mabel."

The sobs caught in his throat as Dipper forced noises from his teeth, "No… no…"

It wasn't coherent, but Ford seemed satisfied. He adjusted himself around Dipper, and he heard something metallic lift from the desk above his head. Briefly, he let himself be deluded into thinking that the worst was over. He imagined holding Mabel and curling up in his bed with a book. He thought about pancakes and Waddles. Anything but what he was going through now.

But then he felt Ford begin to peel the skin back, and he was torn savagely from his delusions. His screaming resumed. Ford was whispering something - probably telling him that everything was okay, but Dipper knew that wasn't true. Nothing was okay. He was in hell.

But eventually, he felt something cold press against the pain, and he took shaky breaths as he tried to enjoy the moment. He knew more pain was yet to come.

"Dipper, talk to me."

He hiccupped, "J-j-j…" he inhaled as a hand ran over his arm in what should have been a soothing manner, "Just k-k-k kill me." He pleaded.

"I'm sorry Dipper."

And then he continued. Next, he screwed the plate to his head, but Dipper couldn't count how many screws it had taken. Ford was whispering to him as he worked, something about why it was necessary to place the metal where he did, but Dipper couldn't care less. There was nothing to focus on aside from the searing pain with every movement his great uncle made. But finally, Ford took a shaky breath,

"We're almost done."

Stitching his skin back together almost felt relaxing compared to the surgery itself, but Dipper cried nonetheless. Even once Ford was done, and cauteriser had been applied, Dipper didn't move from where he lay. Ford sat with him for a long while, rubbing his back slowly and soothingly.

They must have sat like that for hours, Dipper's sobbing continuing until he had no tears left. Even then, he lay there on Ford's desk. If crying had given him a headache, he couldn't tell. Ford got up after a moment to add something to his IV drip, and finally Dipper began to drift off to sleep.

He floated between conscious and unconscious with ease, the pain dissipating until he couldn't feel anything anymore,

"Why did no one come to save me?" he whimpered.

Ford shook his head, "I'm sorry, Dipper. Mabel and Stan knew that I would have to do this. They must have figured out what was happening. This is for the best, really."

Ford didn't remove the straps like Dipper had thought he would, and instead they remained there, Dipper drifting asleep several more times over the next few hours. Ford stayed with him the entire time, falling asleep by Dipper's head finally.

The two awoke to the sounds of the elevator whirring to life, and Mabel stepped out,

"I… thought you'd be thirsty." She mumbled quietly, slowly looking around the room.

Dipper couldn't see her, but he heard the glasses shatter to the floor,

"Mabel, be careful with him!"

She rushed to his side and wrapped her arms around him, "Dipper I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!"

She tore the cords from the table that had held him in place,

"Grunkle Ford, why didn't you untie him? Oh Dipper." She rested her head on his blood-soaked shirt, "Nobody is ever going to hurt you again, okay?"


	7. Chapter 7

The next days passed in a blur. Mabel stuck by his side the entire time, only leaving for bathroom breaks and showers. Even at night while Dipper slept she remained. She had dragged an old sleeping bag into his room and cleared the books on the floor to give herself a space to sleep. Every time Dipper began to struggle in the night, he would wake up to a gentle hand on his arm.

After the first week was over, Dipper had seen enough Duck Detective to last him a lifetime, but he didn't complain. Mabel and him would sit together on the couch, sharing a blanket and a bowl of popcorn. They'd watched some episodes more than three times, but both of them were content to just let the re-runs play through.

Occasionally, Dipper would break into sobs without warning. There was never any build-up or trigger, just simply the mental turmoil left-over from his few days in hell. Mabel didn't seem to mind, and she would patiently sit with him, holding him close and fetching extra tissue when necessary. Sometimes, these bouts of tears would last for hours, and sometimes only a minute, but regardless, Mabel would stay with him until he calmed down again.

And then they'd be back to watch more Duck Detective.

It wasn't long before the family began to notice Dipper's peculiar behaviour. Aside from the quiet demeanor, he would frequently zone out. At first, this didn't seem out of the ordinary in the least. But sometimes these little moments would turn into a five-minute staring contest with the picture of Stanley on the wall instead. Mabel would try to break his trance-like state, but it was as if he was an empty shell. He would stare at the picture much like Bill had watched Ford during his exorcism. It was uncanny enough that Mabel began to call one of the grunkles to stay with him if the episode lasted longer than a minute, so that she wouldn't need to be alone if Bill returned.

Grunkle Stan also made a serious effort to help Dipper recover. He would offer him a beer on the front porch and would make breakfast for everyone if Mabel was too caught-up with Dipper to do it. While his food wasn't the best, it was made with compassion, and Dipper had missed that more than anything.

Ford, for the most part, avoided Dipper. Their relationship had been badly damaged, and just seeing Ford would cause tremors to course through Dipper's body. His reaction was so severe at times that even after Ford was gone, Mabel or Stan would have to sit with Dipper to tell him that he was safe. Stan promised him repeatedly that even Ford would never hurt him again, and swore up that if he ever tried, Stan would 'take him out first'.

Dipper tried his best to understand Ford's motives for the things he had done, but it didn't quell his fears. Something inside of him just couldn't let go of the things Ford had done to him, but just the mention of his name made his throat go dry.

It was best for them both if they spent a little time apart.

Unfortunately, Ford was the only one who was able to explain Dipper's new and bizarre behaviour.

"It's unnerving, but it's completely natural." Ford had explained, "I went through the same thing. His brain is simply used to having two occupants already, and it's waiting for Bill to step in. Don't worry, it'll wear off in time."

Consciously, Dipper knew that Bill was gone, but a part of him couldn't accept that. His brain felt hollow somehow, as if something inside of him was missing.

While Stanley had felt it was best if Dipper remained around the Mystery Shack until his spacing-out let up, Dipper still insisted on spending time outdoors. He felt safer there, as if everything he had been through could be confined within the walls of the Mystery Shack.

And so him and Mabel would find different things to do outside. For a few hours they passed a football back and forth, but when Dipper zoned out instead of catching the ball they realized it wasn't the best idea. The bump that it had left on his head was small, but the headache it caused from aggravating his surgical wounds was severe.

So they had to find something safer, which meant searching for fungi to help with Ford's research. It turned out he really hadn't been lying about studying some of the fungi in the area, and so Mabel and Dipper would find him samples to label, and then Mabel would deliver the jars to him at the end of the day for examination.

The simplicity was relaxing for Dipper. It was exhausting being treated so delicately by his family, however he felt he was in no position to complain. He was finally safe, and that's all he could ask for.

Dipper's mind however didn't seem so convinced. Instead of relaxing, Dipper would find himself jumping at shadows when left alone, and his razor had gone straight into the garbage. Even the mirror in the bathroom had been removed so he wouldn't need to look himself in the eye as he brushed his teeth. Something about his reflection just felt _dirty_. He would see his reflection, and see Bill staring back.

Nobody asked Dipper many questions about what had happened, and he was grateful. He didn't even know what he would say. It would mean explaining not just Bill, but his relationship with James as well. He just wasn't ready for all that right now. So he stayed quiet. Most of his conversations would feel incredibly one-sided, and Dipper felt bad for having so little to contribute. Everyone would try so hard on his behalf, and yet here he was. He didn't want to tell them just how badly he felt he was a waste of their compassion.

Eventually, after several weeks of sleeping on the floor of Dipper's room, Stanley decided it would be for the best if they let him re-adjust to the comfort of his own room. While he was probably right, Dipper had been absolutely terrified. He couldn't imagine being by himself. He felt like he was only half of a person, and that at any time Bill would return. But he couldn't bring himself to ask Mabel to stay with him any longer. Instead, he agreed to have her move back to her own room. But Mabel must have seen something in his eyes when he agreed to the new arrangement, and so she would stay by him each night until he began to drift off, and she would wake up earlier to try and be there when he woke up. This meant that sometimes Dipper awoke to her asleep, sitting on his floor with her head on his bed.

It was difficult, but now that it was over, Dipper needed to rebuild his life. He would need some time to focus on himself. Time to remind himself that he was a human being deserving of respect and love. He would figure it out.

Laying in bed one night reading a book on the fungi of Oregon, he heard a soft knocking at his door. Mabel had already said goodnight almost an hour ago, but perhaps she had seen that his light was still on and stopped to see if he was alright.

But upon opening the door, Dipper found the hallway to be dark and empty – everyone was in bed.

"Mabel?" he called down the hall.

There was no response, so after a moment of hesitation Dipper retreated back into his bedroom, shutting his door tightly and locking the handle. Before he could even turn around, he heard another knocking, but this time he realized that it wasn't coming from the door. He spun around, heart jumping to his throat. There in the window was the gleeful expression of a man he had never met, grinning through his window, with bright yellow eyes shining back at him.


	8. Chapter 8

**NON-CON WARNING**

Dipper stood, eyes locked with those of the man outside his window. He was petrified as it swung open, the squeal of the old hinges filling the room.

"Did you miss me, Pine Tree?"

He felt the blood drain from his face as Bill crawled into the room. He seemed to be in no rush, slowly sauntering towards Dipper, a playful energy radiating from each step.

"Wh-" his mind whirled as he tried to form a coherent sentence, but nothing came out.

The man that stood before him was tall, and Dipper could see the outline of his muscles beneath the beaten-up t-shirt he wore. Bill had chosen his new victim specifically to overpower him.

The world jolted slightly as Dipper felt himself begin to dissociate from his body; it was as if the mere sight of Bill was enough to cause his mind to surrender control.

"I see you're still getting used to life without me." Bill's eerie and knowing grin revealed each one of his off-white teeth.

He set his hand flat against Dipper's chest as he spoke, gently pushing until Dipper toppled to the floor. His head collided with the wooden floorboards, the force causing his vision to go black for a brief, but terrifying moment. The pain that bloomed from the back of his head was amplified by his still-healing scars as it radiated through his skull.

Bill watched with growing amusement as Dipper struggled to come back to his senses,

"I see you've been doing a little renovation." He crouched to knock unapologetically against Dipper's head, eyes locked with his as if challenging him to look away, "You know, Sapling, we had a deal. And you're not the best at following instructions it seems." He leaned down until his lips brushed against Dipper's ear, bracing himself with a hand on the opposite side of Dipper's head "And our little agreement isn't over yet."

Dipper's body didn't respond as he tried to jerk away; instead the only physiological response was the speeding of his pulse.

Bill dropped his voice down to a gruff whisper, "If I were you, I'd work on my persuasion skills a little, Sapling, because I have an appointment with another Pines in 43 minutes, and I'd hate to be late. But I'm a nice guy. I'm flexible about changing my plans… if you give me what I want."

Dipper's eyes stayed locked with Bill's, only another moment passing before he was able to breath out a shaky, "no."

Bill didn't blink as he stared down at him, reaching a hand to roll his thumb over Dipper's chin mindlessly. He studied Dipper, his eyes piercing through his mind as if he knew more than he was letting on.

Dipper continued, "You can do whatever you want to me, Bill, but I won't give you the journals."

Bill squeezed Dipper's cheeks tightly with his fingers, his face emotionless save for his dancing eyes.

"Anything?"

It wasn't a question. It was a challenge.

"That's quite the offer, kid. But I have no use for our games right now. Maybe I'll come back later to say 'hi'."

He stood, strolling towards the door. Dipper laid unresponsively on the floor as he watched. His body felt like jelly as his fingers finally began to twitch in response to his mind. He forced himself quickly into a sitting position, each movement taking all of the strength he possessed as his mind continued to reconfigure. His muscles felt spent from the movement, and he paused to collect himself.

Hearing Dipper's movement, Bill glanced behind him. A crooked smirk curved his lips as he placed a hand on the doorknob, "Don't hurt yourself, over there, Pine Tree. Save your strength for a rainy day."

Dipper didn't respond, and instead pulled himself to his feet, and lunged at Bill. He rammed into Bill's waist, hurling them both into the door before they crumbled to the floor.

The difference in stature overwhelmed Dipper, and he was easily wrestled to the floor and pinned in only a moment. Bill planted a leg on each side of Dipper's stomach and pushed down into his shoulders until he sat comfortably with Dipper unable to retaliate. Dipper tried to cry out, but Bill clamped a dirty hand roughly over his open mouth. The golden eyes turned to a dark red as they burned into Dipper's,

"You forget, Pine Tree. Our deal isn't over just because Sixxer put a slab of metal into your skull. _I own you._ Don't you ever forget that."

He pushed his knee into Dipper's bicep as he maneuvered himself. Pulling an oily handkerchief from his pocket, he took a dramatic moment to scrunch it into a ball as if he were rolling a ball of clay.

"You didn't really think this would end so quickly, did you?" his voice was venomous, and the tone of his voice sent shivers down Dipper's spine.  
He forced the handkerchief into Dipper's mouth, using his hand to force his jaw open wider than necessary. His finger's grazed past his teeth as they positioned the cloth. After a moment, he sat back to admire his work, and his eyes slowly faded back to yellow again. His voice sounded as if he had never been angry at all.

"I thought you might be ready for a fight, Sapling. But don't worry, I'll fix that."

Dipper's free hand grasped at Bill's wrist as he choked on the fabric, "N-"

He tried to reach for the gag, but Bill caught his arm, his free hand reaching for Dipper's throat.

"Want to try something new, or perhaps something more familiar?" he hissed into his ear.

Bill flexed his fingers, and by the time they were clasped around Dipper's throat he was already seeing visions of Ford in his mind. His breathing picked up as if he were back in the moment, scrambling to escape. In his mind, Bill was gone, and instead his great uncle was there again, squeezing his neck - aiming to kill.

Dipper kicked his feet, but they flailed through the air without making any contact. A low chuckle rumbled through Bill's chest in response,

"Oh Pines, it's gonna be so hard to stay quiet with you feeling so feisty. You really know how to turn me on." Bill gazed down at him, leaning forward until his nose touched Dipper's cheek, "Now's a good time to give up, Sapling," and he dragged his tongue from Dipper's jaw to his ear lobe, leaving a grotesque line of saliva behind.

Dipper made a noise through the cloth and jerked his head away. Bill laughed in response, twisting his head to follow Dipper's and crushing their lips together. The kiss was rough, and their teeth clashed together gracelessly. The shear force of the kiss drew blood from Dipper's lip, forcing a pained gasp through the gag that couldn't be heard past Bill's mouth.

Bill trailed a hand along the front of Dipper's chest until his fingers brushed against the hem of his shirt. His eyes were glued to Dipper's, as if he didn't want to miss a moment of his torment. He ran his nails gently across Dipper's abdomen, watching him squirm with his hands still clutching Bill's wrists tightly. Dipper simply didn't have the strength to hold him back, and he was helpless to let Bill's hands wander to the buttons on his jeans. Dipper began to writhe and squirm with renewed vigor.

He ran his finger along Dipper's stomach gently, watching as Dipper squirmed, his hand still wrapped firmly around Bill's wrist, but he simply didn't have the strength to hold him back. As Bill's hands wandered to the buttons on Dipper's jeans, Dipper began to writhe and squirm with renewed vigor.

Dipper jerked to get away, but Bill seemed to not notice, barely moving to bring Dipper back into position. He undid the button on Dipper's jeans slowly and deliberately, running his tongue over his lips just to see Dipper's response. Dipper couldn't look away, staring into the sadistic and excited eyes of his worst nightmare as his zipper was tugged down.

Bill ran his nails harshly over Dipper's stomach as he spoke, "Most people would have learned their place by now, but that's what I really love about you Pines. But don't worry. Even you'll break eventually."

The confidence that radiated through Bill's voice reminded Dipper of someone who had done this before, and his stomach churned at the thought. Instead of dwelling on the idea, Dipper instead bucked his hips, attempting to roll Bill off. But Bill quickly caught his balance, and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his laugh like a small child watching a comedic play. He leant forward once more, dragging his teeth over the cartilage of Dipper's ear, "this will be easier for both of us if you'd just give up," he hissed.

Dipper's hand had been jerked free when he had tried to buck Bill off, but it just fed his frustration as he realized that even with his hands free, he couldn't escape. He grasped at Bill's wrists helplessly, attempting to gain any control, but Bill barely seemed to notice. Suddenly and forcefully, he pushed his hand down the front of Dipper's pants, palming his cock aggressively through his boxers. Bill gripped his fingers into a vice, the pressure painfully jolting through Dipper's balls. There was nothing Dipper could do but keep his hands wrapped around Bill's wrists, telling himself that it was somehow making a difference, but his inability to defend himself only fed his despair. Dipper's mind felt as if it hit a brick wall, and he fought the oncoming dissociation, but he knew it was coming regardless. His breathing sped up and Bill moved his fingers painfully, never lessening his grip, but instead digging his nails in and pulling on the loose skin. His terror was threatening to suffocate him.

And as quickly as Bill had begun, he was done. He pulled his hand from Dipper's pants and pressed his palm against Dipper's cheek lewdly. He rubbed his thumb in small circles, as if consoling Dipper as his body began to tremble slightly. He could smell his own musk from Bill's hand and a dirty feeling sank into his stomach. But before Dipper could truly appreciate what had just happened, Bill was pulling his pants roughly down, ripping them from his legs as if unwrapping a gift. Dipper began to wish that he would dissociate sooner rather than later.

He felt fucked up. He should be screaming and fighting, but he wasn't. He wanted to believe that if he called out, his family would come to his aid, but he wasn't even sure he wanted them to see him like this. Did they even need to know? He just wanted to get it over with. For everything to end. He wanted to die, and maybe when everything was over he would, but right now, he was alive. Alive and in pain.

Bill seemed content to leave Dipper's arms free as he pulled the boxers to his feet. He only pulled one leg free, leaving the other ankle shackled as he lifted both of Dipper's knees, spreading his legs until nothing stood between him and Dipper's bare cock. Uninterested in pleasure, Bill harshly pushed a finger past the tight ring of muscle that puckered Dipper's ass, ignoring the pained and shocked gasps that escaped his victim. Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, twisting his head to the side and holding his breath as Bill experimentally moved his finger in and out. He watched Dipper like a predator sizing up his next meal – eyes slightly wider than expected and head tilted inquisitively. There was a peculiar hunger in Bill's eyes that Dipper didn't care to think about, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, regretting that he had opened them to witness Bill's expression.

Bill curved his fingers oddly inside Dipper, and he the pressure of a growing and shameful erection. He hated himself for his body's betrayal, and he attempted to prevent his body from responding to Dipper's movements – as if somehow, he was responsible for what was happening. As if he could control each pulse through his groin and his cock as it grew harder.

Bill fingered him enthusiastically for what felt like an eternity before abruptly pulling himself to his feet, leaving Dipper a mess on the floor. He watched with interest as Dipper curled into himself, blood drops littered the floor beneath him. A small giggle burned through Dipper's ears, and Bill knelt down beside him one last time, stroking the back of his fingers across Dipper's cheek,

"Do you understand now, Pine Tree? _Every inch of your being belongs to me."_

A soft knock bounced through the room, and Bill's eyes shot to the door as he stood.

"Dipper? Are you asleep?"

It was Ford. And Bill's smirk grew immensely. Dipper curled into himself more, as if trying to squeeze himself out of existence. He didn't want Ford to see him like this. He didn't want to deal with whatever it was that was about to happen. He just wanted it to be over. Everything. He wanted everything to be over.

Ford coughed uncomfortable, "I can see your light on… May I come in?"

The door squeaked open, and the deafening silence that followed was unbearable. Within seconds Dipper felt the room shake with the force of the two men hitting the floor. The obscenities that Ford was spewing were even more severe than when he had tried to kill Dipper a few weeks earlier, but the tone in his voice was much the same - the pure hatred was unmistakeable.

Dipper ignored the battle behind as an ocean of emotions poured over him. Fat tears began to roll down his tears, drenching his face as his chest vibrated with violent hiccups. He could barely breath, and he couldn't think; all Dipper could do was sob. He wanted to care about Ford and Bill, but he just couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't think beyond the pool of emotions he was quickly drowning in.

"DIPPER!" he heard Mabel scream from the doorway, her voice conveying emotions he never wanted her to feel. She dropped to the floor behind him, her body covering him as if she could protect him from what had already occurred. She wrapped her arms around him, but Dipper didn't respond – he couldn't respond.

Her intrusion must have distracted Ford, because Bill finally had a chance to speak,

"You should know better than this, Sixxer. You can beat this sad-sack up for hours, but it won't do a thing to me."

Mabel bent over him, sobbing into Dipper's shoulder, "Don't listen to them, bro-bro. I'm here. Don't listen to them." She clasped her hand over his upward facing ear, but didn't attempt to lift his head to cover the other one. He could feel her hair brush his arm, and drops of what he could only imagine was her tears began to hit his forearms. He tried to concentrate on the feeling of the tears rolling down his arm, but all he could feel was pain and all he could hear was the horrifying emotions that were exploding behind him. It was impossible to ignore Ford's voice, booming through the room, trembling with frustration and fury.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, BILL?!"

Bill's laugher was cut short, and Dipper could hear a distinct choking sound behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut to try and pretend like he couldn't hear it, but even after Bill had fallen silent the sound still echoes through his mind.

He heard something hit the ground, and suddenly Bill was wheezing. He heard something crash to the floor, but he couldn't tell exactly what it was that had fallen.

He hadn't noticed the footsteps at the door until now, but Stanley was now kneeling in front of him, his hand on top of Dipper's head. He was asking Mabel what was going on, but she only shook her head as she tried to pull Dipper closer. He felt the blanket from his bed be pulled over his legs and up to his hips, and then Stanley was gone, his voice joining Bill and Ford's behind him.

He heard another deafening _thud_ , and something sharp whizzed past his cheek, the cut so small it could have been a paper cut. Mabel stiffened above him, but Dipper could only assume she was alright. He hands clenched into fists in his shirt, and he heard her taking a shaking breath in, and another tear rolled down his arm. The thumping behind them started to form a rhythm, and he was vaguely aware that Bill hadn't spoken it quite some time. The pounding stopped when he heard Grunkle Stan trying to calm Ford.

"Stanford! Stanford stop!" Something akin to a squelching noise rippled from the last _thud_ , and Mabel made a pained noise above him.

And then Bill was laughing again, "Oh IQ, look at the lovely mess you've made! I guess he won't be returning to his family any time soon."

Ford began to speak, but Stanley cut him off.

"Get out of here, Bill." Compared to Ford, Stanley sounded calm and composed, but there was a strain in his voice that betrayed his emotions.

"Oh sure! I could. But I'll just come back. Over and over and over…"

Dipper must have started shaking, because Mabel was whispering in his ear again, telling him that everything would be okay, but Dipper knew she was lying.

"But c'mon, Sixxer, we've worked well together before! We could try again. And don't worry, I already know you burned a few of those old journals I wanted. Don't sweat it! We can recreate the portal all from scratch. I have forever to work with you."

"Get the fuc-" but Stanley was cut off by his brother,

"Then we'll play by your rules, Bill. Make me a deal."

Mabel's head shot up, "Grunkle Ford, no!"

"What are you doing, Stanford?" Fear threaded itself through his voice as his confidence wavered.

"I know what I'm doing, Stanley."

"O-ho-ho! Look's like the Pines are having a little disagreement. But I like the way you talk, Fordsie, it'll be just like the old days!"

"I'll help you with the portal, Bill. But in return, you leave my family alone. Swear to me that once you shake my hand, you'll never hurt my family again."

Dipper heard the crackling of fire behind him, and for a selfish moment he felt a wave a relief. He was going to be free. This was really it.


	9. Chapter 9

Clasping hands, Ford and Bill's hands went up in blue flames, and Bill's eerie and delighted laugh filled the room. With a curt, "Seeya later Sixxer!" he disappeared, leaving the Pines with the bloodied remains of the man he had possessed. The room was left in a horrific silence.

Grunkle Stan was the first to step into action, "Everyone out. I'll take care of the mess, so…" he coughed uncomfortably, knowing how harshly he was coming across, "Just go relax." he finished.

Nobody argued, knowing better than to ask questions about the disposal of the body. One by one the exited the room, Ford sending a sorrowful glance towards the twins before retiring to his laboratory to brood by himself. Mabel kept her arms wrapped tightly around her brother as if she would lose him forever if she let go. She helped him to his feet gently, rubbing his back reassuringly as she helped him from the mess that was his bedroom. They heard a soft sigh escape Grunkle Stan once they were down the hall, and the door clicked shut.

Mabel escorted Dipper to her room, draping her comforter overtop of him as he lay motionless. Then she dropped to the floor at the foot of the bed, curling her arms around her knees, and began to sob. Her crying was quiet and subdued, as if Dipper's vulnerable emotions had begun to pour into her, overflowing and overwhelming, leaving Dipper himself cold and numb beneath her blanket.

In part, Dipper knew that now was the time to take action against Bill; with Ford now entrapped in a deal, there might be only a little time left to fight back. But right now, Dipper didn't have the strength to talk to anyone. The mess that he had created was so insurmountable, that he couldn't even begin to imagine how his family could clean up after him. Bill really may have won – soon there would be a second Weirdmageddon.

But for now, Dipper was safe. Safe from James, safe from Bill, and safe from Ford. But most importantly, he had grown safe from his own emotions. After everything he'd been through, he finally felt nothing at all. Mabel's quiet sobs were just an echo of emotions he had felt yesterday; she was simply an embodiment of all his discarded emotions.

Dipper's wandering thoughts were scattered when he felt Mabel's warm hands on his shoulder, followed by the weight of her head as she rested it on top of her hands. For the briefest of moments, they stayed like that, Dipper remaining unresponsive, before Mabel stood and left the room. The next several hours passed in a blur, and Dipper lost track of time. He willed himself to fall asleep, but he couldn't, instead staring blankly at the wall as his brain sluggishly floated through thoughts. Eventually, he forced his body upright, sitting with the sheets pooling around him. He sat like that, bracing himself to face his family, for what must have been an hour.

The house felt deserted as he slowly made his way down the stairs. The shack was dark except for the dim yellow emitted from the kitchen. A small _thump_ of a glass against the table confirmed that someone was still there, and Dipper took a deep breath, trying to remember how he used to interact so easily with his family. There was another _thump_ of the glass against the table, and Dipper found himself in the threshold to the room.

Sitting, eyes hollow and staring off in the distance, was Mabel, a coffee mug in her hand, and the smell of cheap wine in the air. Here eyes focused on Dipper, and she pulled herself from her slumped position to smile wearily up at him. She opened her mouth to say 'hello', but nothing came out. Her eyes wavered, locked with his for a long and painful moment before she looked back into her mug, lifting it to her mouth and tipping it until it blocked the view of her face. He watched her throat bob as she gulped down what remained in her cup, and as she set it down loudly on the table she closed her eyes and leaned her had back again.

"I'm sorry." Dipper finally croaked, his throat dry and voice hoarse, "I never meant to hurt everyone, Mabel. I'm so sorry."

A tear rolled down his cheek, but the expected flood never followed. Instead, he lowered himself into the chair across from Mabel, watching as she straightened her posture once again,

"It's not your fault, bro-bro." She smiled at the table, "We'll figure this out. We always do."

At that she stood, stepping over to beside the refrigerator where a half-empty bottle of wine sat on the counter. She tipped the corkless-bottle into her mug absently and watched the liquid fall into the enclosing ceramic.

"You know, Grunkle Ford burnt all his journals. Right before he went upstairs to talk to you. He burnt everything. Years of research…" she stepped away from the counter and fell back into her chair, wiggling the mug mindlessly in her hand, "The only way Bill can finish the gate is through him, now."

A silence filled the room once again, both examining the wooden patterns across the table-surface. Mabel set the mug back onto the table, "only Grunkle Ford…" she mumbled, "I guess that's why he made the deal."

Dipper watched her, the gears in his head suddenly alert, "Wait, Mabel, what was the deal?"

She looked up at him and blinked, "You don't remember?"

He shook his head, "I do… but… but what did he say? What exactly did Ford say?"

Mabel's head rose, eyes widening as if her and Dipper's thoughts were linked, "He said: I'll help you with the portal, but you have to leave my family alone." Her eyes brightened, "He doesn't have to finish the portal! Dipper, he's a genius!"

His heart faltered; he didn't want to crush her spirits.

"No… no Mabel. Bill will find a way. He'll make him finish it. He's… persuasive." He remembered standing over Mabel's bed and shivered, "He won't stop at anything to finish the portal."

Her expression fell, "But Grunkle Ford has a plan, right?"

If he did, it was far too late to begin execution. But he couldn't say that to her, he couldn't take away the last of her hopes like that.

"He must."

Mabel disguised her expression with another sip of her mug, "To complete the deal, he just has to help him… he's the only one who knows how to make the portal now. Bill can't kill him, or he won't be able to finish it."

She was right. And Ford had to know that too. Dipper laid his head against the table-top, his mind slowing again. He must have a plan…

Mabel slammed her mug against the table with such force that a crack split along the handle and down through the base. "Oh my God, Grunkle Ford is…!" and she was off like a bullet, rushing to the Mystery Shack souvenir shop. She moved with such speed that her socked feet continued to slide across the floor when her palms collided with the vending machine, only stopping once her toes hit the bottom of the machine in turn. Dipper was right behind her, mind rushing to keep up.

"Mabel, what is it?"

She was hammering the code into the machine, and when it didn't immediately open she slammed her fist against the side, crying out in frustration.

"Mabel! Mabel what's going on?" The door swung open, and she forced her way into the elevator while it was still half-open. Dipper hurried after her, worried that she would leave him behind if he didn't.

Mabel was already pressing the buttons before he was in, "Oh come on… come on…"

The door shut slowly, ignoring Mabel's frantic behaviour. The machine crawled down the shaft, squeaking loudly over the brief silence as her eyes locked with Dipper's. They were wide with desperation as she whispered,

"Dipper, I think he's going to k-"

She was interrupted by a loud _BANG!_ from below them, and the horror that crossed her face must have matched that of Dipper's own. The elevator hit the bottom level, and the two ripped the door open. Before they had even left the elevator, they could smell the blood in the room – they were too late.

Ford sat at his desk, slumped at an odd position with his head back and tilted towards them as far as his neck would stretch. A small revolver lay on the floor beneath his hand, and on the wall farthest from the twins was a splatter of blood that reached both the ceiling and the floor. Pieces of red, sticky flesh clung to the old paint, unidentifiable from so far away, but most certainly a piece of Ford's cranial anatomy. Across the desk and floor were large pieces of metal from when the plate inside his head had shattered. Dipper's stomach dropped and his mind whirled – _this can't be happening_. He felt the floor shift beneath him as he dropped to his knees, vomiting on the floor in front of him. Grasping his hands tightly into his hair, Dipper heard a familiar scream escape involuntarily from his lungs.


End file.
